A Living Bride
by RStiltskinned
Summary: Christine consented to being Erik's living bride, but alive and living are two very different things. After making a surprising discovery in his room, she makes a decision that will drastically change their relationship - for the better or for the worse. (Leroux, alternate ending in which Erik did not let Christine go) NOW UNDERGOING RE-WRITE.
1. Chapter 1

One day, Christine came upon a night gown.

An innocent enough object, really, made of ivory silk with elegant lace trimmings. The truly remarkable detail was the place she had found it in: her husband's bedroom. Erik had left her alone all day, and in a fit or extraordinary boredom, Christine had decided to clean their little house by the lake. When Erik was home, Christine was never allowed to help with any chores; Erik insisted upon waiting on her hand and foot, although it made Christine highly uncomfortable.

She'd even gone into Erik's sombre bed chamber, which, though no longer forbidden, was still risky territory. In fact, she hadn't been inside since she'd demanded that he get rid of his coffin. That had been two months ago, one month after the fateful night that had bound them together forever.

Three months had passed since their "wedding", and they had been agonizing at worst and awkward at best. For the most part, the two of them had stayed away from each other; except for the usual pleasantries that were exchanged at mealtimes and such, there had not been much interaction between them. Christine had tried to engage Erik in a serious conversation, but each attempt had ended in an argument and tears from both of them. He still treated her like a valuable possession; something to cherish but place back into a box once one was done looking at it. He barely talked or listened to her, and, worst of all, he did not trust her. Every attempt she made at being affectionate towards him was met with suspicion, and he still locked her in when he left the little house at the lake, as if he believed she would betray him at the first chance she got. Granted, there had been a time when she would have run, but that had passed after a month or so – she had long since realised that there was no place where he would not find her, and endangering anyone else, especially Raoul, by seeking their help, was out of the question.

To further complicate matters, Christine had come to realise that she did not have the heart to abandon Erik. When she had turned the Scorpion, it had been out of pity for him as much as out of desire to save Raoul. Christine never begrudged Erik his wish for normality or companionship, nor had his face horrified any longer after that dreadful night when she'd become his wife; it was his lies, his violent temper, his threats and possessiveness over her that she could not bear. She had tried to be the best wife she could be under the awful circumstances, but how could she be expected to be pleasant towards a man who had taken from her everything she loved and held dear? Despite her bitterness over her fate, however, she had promised herself to remain strong and try the best she could to make both their lives a little brighter. Both she and Erik were weary of all the fighting and the tears. Christine even suspected that there had been moments when he had been ready to let her go, if only to end their suffering. But all these speculations set aside, the fact remained that she was now bound to him, presumably forever, and Christine would not let herself be treated like a prized trinket for the rest of her life. If he wanted a wife, he would have to be a husband to her in return. If he wanted companionship, he could not leave her alone all the time. But Christine knew that nothing would ever change unless she was the one who initiated it, which had led her to gather her courage and try to break through the wall of ice they had built between them – and as the man himself was so often absent, making herself at home in his domain would have to do for the time being.

Thus it was she had stumbled upon this suspicious garment, neatly tucked away in a drawer. Any other wife might have begun to doubt her husband's fidelity after finding an unfamiliar night gown in his bedroom, but Christine knew that the gown could only be meant for her; she even had her suspicions as to its purpose. She had lived among theatre folk nearly all of her life, after all; she knew that the daring cut of the gown made its intended use quite clear.

This gown was meant for her wedding night.

Erik had never shown any intentions of approaching her in a physical manner. Christine was fairly certain that he desired her, for he would often stare at her with a look that made her feel uneasy and flustered. Other men had looked at her in a similar fashion, and she knew what it meant. And yet, he never touched her in any way; in fact, every touch since their wedding day had been initiated by her, while he had shied away from her hands as if they were scalding hot, no matter how innocent her intentions were. Considering this, Christine began to suspect that this nightgown might have been a product of Erik's everlasting need for perfection; a man who would spent money on an exquisite wedding gown that none but two people would ever get to see would also have the matching night gown made, simply because that was what normal people did when getting married, and normality was Erik's biggest dream, after all.

But to Christine, it seemed as if the silk was mocking her. With Raoul, she had sometimes blushingly imagined a wedding night, but with Erik, this had never been a possibility. He had made it clear that he would not go near her, and while that was a relief, Christine also felt she was missing out on yet another part of life. As she had once with Raoul, Christine was once again only playing at marriage, and she hated it; she increasingly felt as if though she had been buried alive. Something had to change, or else she would go mad.

Sometimes there is no way of easing oneself into something. Sometimes one has to jump in headfirst. Her careful attempts at coaxing Erik out of his shell had been fruitless, so maybe it was time for a more direct strategy. Perhaps if she showed him this ultimate level of acceptance, he would finally start trusting her and open up to her, and they would at least have a chance of being content together.

Christine was nothing if not a brave woman.

And holding on to that braveness, she slipped in to the night gown and waited.


	2. Chapter 2

Even though he understood the necessity of it, Erik hated leaving the opera house.

There was the obvious reason of course – the intense hatred he harboured for mankind, a feeling that was usually reciprocated.

And now there was also the fear that she would be gone – or worse, dead – when he returned home.

He knew that Christine had promised to be his living bride, and that it was highly unlikely that she would manage to escape from the cellar without getting caught in one of his traps, but the fear was still there, ever present and eating away at him. Erik was no fool; delusional though he might have been in making her is wife, he knew that she would never be truly happy with him, despite what he had once promised her. And how could she be? He hated to admit it, but he had locked her away like a songbird in a cage. And if anyone knew how agonizing it was to be confined to a place, it was Erik. But maybe, with a little luck, he could make the cage so elaborate and luxurious that she would be content inside of it.

Even so, Erik felt that he had made a huge, unforgivable mistake; but what was he to do? He could not let her leave; she was rightfully his now; and yet, her presence brought him more torment than her absence had. To have her be so close, and yet so unreachably far away was torture of the most exquisite kind.

He was still lost in these thoughts when returned to his home. After depositing his purchases, Erik immediately went to look for Christine. He knocked on her bedroom door; there was no answer. Was she in the living room then? No, she was not. She was in none of the rooms – his worst fears had been realised and she was gone! He had to find her, before she could accidentally hurt herself in one of his traps…_or maybe_, he thought with panic_, maybe she has thrown herself into the lake or harmed herself in some other way. _He would need a lantern and possibly some rope – both items he kept hidden in his room, as Erik believed that Christine could use them to escape from the cellars – and so he raced into his bedchamber.

A flash of white caught his eye and he halted.

There on the bed – the bed that Christine had insisted he use instead of his coffin – sat the lady in question, wearing naught but a nightgown.

And not just any night gown – _the _night gown.

The night gown that he – in one of his particularly delusional moments – had ordered along with her wedding dress.

Erik could not do anything but stare, even though he was vaguely aware that his behaviour was not at all gentlemanly. "Christine?" he managed at last. "What are you doing in Erik's room…and why are you wearing _that_?" The pitch of his voice had turned uncharacteristically high and raspy.

Christine's face turned pink – and with all that skin exposed to his view, Erik noticed that her blush was not confined to her face. He swallowed thickly; now there was a sight that would torture him for weeks to come. Erik did not think that anything could startle him at this point – but again, he had underestimated his wife.

"Erik, are you happy?"

That was an unexpected question, and Erik immediately became suspicious. "What does Christine mean by that?" he answered carefully.

"I mean exactly what I say, Erik; are you happy with the way things are between us? With the life we are leading? Tell, me, truthfully; are you content, are you happy?" Her question came with a wild, determined look that made his heart jump to his throat. How was he to answer her? Was he happy? He had Christine to himself, which was what he had wanted, but she was still not truly his. Sometimes, he wondered whether he had been better off alone, yet the thought of being without her was too painful to bear.

"Why must you torment your Erik with such questions?" he moaned.

Her glare intensified, if that was at all possible. "Because, Erik, I think that you are not happy, and neither am I. And therefore, things must change. We cannot go on and live as we do now! We are husband and wife, and yet we act as if we were still merely pupil and teacher. Even when you were an angel you were closer to me than you are now!"

Erik was aghast; how could she possibly wish him any closer? She, who had confessed to the Vicomte how much Erik's very presence repulsed her! Why on earth would she wish for a more intimate relationship with him?

"If Erik has kept himself at distance from you, my dear, then he has done so purely for your benefit," he hastily offered. "Erik knows that he is repulsive to his Christine; why bother her with his presence any more than necessary? No, no, Christine only feels a little lonely, that is all. Perhaps Erik shall require a pet for her, yes? A pet to keep Christine company –"

"Erik!" Christine's eyes had taken on a dangerous glint that Erik had never seen before, and it scared him as much as the sharp tone that of her voice, She had never dared to raise her voice at him before, not even when he'd threatened to kill the boy. "I do not need a pet, and you know it. Nor will I allow you to treat me as one. I need a husband who does not shy away from me as if I were plagued by an infectious disease! I need – I need you!" she admitted, and for one moment, the angry look in her eyes softened a little.

Erik stepped back in shock.

_I need you. I need you. I need you_. The words echoed in his mind. It couldn't be right. No one needed him. No one wanted him.

"I am not one of your many trinkets, Erik; you cannot keep me on a shelf like some pretty bauble. Did you not want a living wife? I am suffocating, Erik! This is no life – this is living death!"

There it was; the illusion of a normal, happy marriage that Erik had worked so hard to keep up over the past few months was at last shattered. Oh, poor Christine! And poor, wretched Erik! He knew – had always known – that there was no happy ending for monsters; why had he deluded himself into thinking that he could be like any other man? He had tried so hard to make life here as pleasant as possible for his Christine, but he should have known that she would always be unhappy with him. Did not Persephone long for the sun when she was trapped with Hades, despite the riches he offered her? Oh…poor, poor Christine, to be weighed with the awful burden of his love! Erik felt a familiar stinging sensation behind his eyes, and before long, tears flowed down his sallow cheeks. As so many times before, he threw himself at his angel's feet, overcome with remorse and guilt – even though she had told him many times that she did not like it – and sobbed into the hem of that expensive, ivory-coloured night gown.

"Oh Christine….! Forgive your poor Erik…forgive him, for he is a fool…he only wished to make Christine happy, but he should have known that such a thing is not possible…oh! Erik wanted to live an ordinary life – how extraordinarily presumptuous of him! To think he could be like any other man…."

He was startled out of his lamentation when he felt Christine timidly touching his head, her hand straying dangerously close to the wire that held his mask in place; immediately, he snapped back and looked up at her. Her expression was one of concern, and not, as he had feared, of pity or even disgust. She reached out and touched him again, gently resting her hands on his shoulders. Erik did not move, he did not breathe; he thought that even his heart had stopped beating.

"Erik, things can get better between us. We may never be a perfect married couple, but we can do better than this. The circumstances of our wedding were…stressful, to say the least. But if I have learned one thing in my life, Erik, then that it does not help to cling to the past. We must go forward, and we have to do it together." She smiled at him, a beautiful sight that made his heart ache. Oh sweet, sweet Christine…Erik's angel! "And that's why I am wearing this gown, Erik. I know what it is meant for-" He opened his mouth to explain, to tell her that he had never meant for this gown to fulfil its purpose, but she held up one hand to stop him. "When papa taught me to swim, Erik, I was afraid to go into the water because it was so cold and dark and it scared me. Do you know what my papa told me to?" Erik, confused and nervous as to where this conversation was heading, shook his head. "Papa told me to jump in. He said that embracing the brief shock of cold would be far easier than slowly making my way into it. And he was right, Erik. It was so much easier."

Christine took a deep breath, and then looked straight into his eyes. He suddenly became aware of how close she was, and shrunk back out of reflex.

"If you allow it, then we are going to do the same, Erik. We will take a leap of faith and start our life anew, and we will do better than before. Think of today as our actual wedding day," she said, and then, with a slight tremor in her voice, continued, "-and tonight…tonight shall be our true wedding night."

The silence that followed hung heavily upon them as her words sank in.

She wanted a new beginning? She wanted a proper marriage…with him?  
She wanted a wedding night…._a wedding night_. Oh God. Surely she did not mean…? But she was wearing that gown! That gown that had haunted his dreams so often; that he had kept locked away because he feared the urges that the sight of that piece of silk stirred within him. _A wedding night…!_

No, no, this could not be! Erik had never even dreamed of such a thing; it was preposterous! She shuddered at the sight of him, and yet now she claimed she wanted to…good God, he could not let his thoughts wander down such a path. How could she ask such a thing and be earnest in her intentions? Surely she was mocking him! Surely this was some elaborate punishment! Suddenly, his grief turned into anger; how dare she torment him so! Did she find it amusing to taunt the beast and laugh at its misery? Perhaps it was best if he reminded her that it was a monster she was offering to bed.

He lifted himself from the floor and took a few steps back, trying to regain his imposing stance. Apparently it worked, because Christine shrunk back from him instinctively.

"Christine…! Do not torment your Erik with such impossible notions! A wedding night, indeed! You would share your bed with _this_?" And with that, he ripped of his mask, revealing his monstrous face to her.

"Do you still wish for a wedding night now, Christine? Oh, I am sure you must be yearning for your husband's touch!" he sneered. "Come now, where have all your pretty lies gone? Had you forgotten the sight of my face? Had you forgotten that I am no more than a corpse? Oh Christine, we could have been happy…I would have tried harder, done anything you wished…_oh, Christine!_" Her name was no more than a choked sob when it fell from his lips. His anger was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving him with nothing but despair; fresh tears began to fall from his sunken eyes. Covering his wretched face with his hands, he wept, as he had done so many times before.

Again, it was her touch that startled him out of his lamentations. She had moved closer to him; the last time she had been this near was when she had pressed a kiss upon his brow, on that long ago night. Her eyes were glistening with tears now as they had then; once more, they were crying together.

She gently laid one hand on each of his cheeks, wiping away his tears. Erik felt disorientated and dizzy; the overflow of sensations threatened to overwhelm him, and the only thing that kept him grounded were her eyes, those lovely blue eyes that held his gaze and refused to let him go.

And then, without any further warning, she kissed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Erik was dead, he was quite certain of it.

And against all odds, it seemed as though he had moved upwards instead of down below. Either that, or hell was not meeting his expectations.

_Erik_….a voice called to him through the dark haze…_was that an angel?_

_Erik….ERIK! _

With a start, Erik opened his eyes and tried to sit up; however, dizziness overcame him and he fell back down again onto something soft – a cushion, he realised. He was lying on the floor, and somebody – Christine – had rested his head on a cushion to make him more comfortable. She herself was kneeling next to him, her eyes wide with worry – worry over him! That revelation brought on a startling mix of guilt and pleasure.

"Christine…what happened? Has Erik hurt you? How…?" He looked at her questioningly. Christine bit her lip and sighed.

"No Erik, you did not hurt me. On the contrary – you fainted."

He had _fainted_? Why the devil had he fainted?

"What of before? What happened?" He only had a hazy memory of what had occurred right before he had fainted; Christine had touched his face, which he remembered, but then…? A rapid succession of sensations crossed his mind; a galloping heartbeat, heat, something clammy touching his cheek, and then something soft…

"We – I kissed you, Erik. And I think it may have been too much for you, because, well…you forgot how to breathe, or so it seemed" she gestured at his somewhat undignified position. "I-I'm sorry," she added, blushing.

She had kissed him._ She had kissed Erik._

Now the jumbled images and sensations made sense – the clammy object on his cheek had been her hands, slick with the sign of her nervousness; the frantic heartbeat had been his own; and the heat and the sensation of something soft touching him…_touching his lips_…she had kissed him! Instinctively, he reached up to touch his mouth, as if he could somehow still feel here there, for surely such a heavenly occurrence must have left some mark upon him! He half expected to look into the mirror and see a handsome face, a prince transformed at last by the princess' kiss…

"Oh, Christine…my darling Christine!" he moaned. Slowly, he managed to sit up and pull his legs underneath him so that he was now kneeling upon the floor and facing her. And then she touched him again! Gently, as if he could break, she took his hands in hers and pulled them closer until their clasped hands were resting in her lap. He stared down at them numbly, at his gnarled, yellow fingers that were covered by her lily-white ones. How odd the contrast looked! He idly wondered how strange a picture it must have been, her soft, pink lips pressed to his own misshapen mouth…his breathing became more and more laboured at the thought, his body temperature alternating between freezing and boiling in seconds. Christine must have noticed this, for she let out a small sound of surprise. "Your hands…they're warm for once!" she exclaimed. Erik could only stare at her. She had _kissed_ him, and all she was concerned about was his body temperature?

"Christine…" he whispered hoarsely. "Why…?" It was all he could manage.

He was finally brave enough to meet her gaze and was shocked by what he found there; anxiety, worry…but there was also inexplicable warmth that made his heart ache in a surprisingly pleasant way.

"Erik, I kissed you because I felt it was the right thing to do. Remember what I told you about taking a leap of faith? This was mine, Erik; I've jumped into the water." She squeezed his hands a little, causing delicious shivers to race up his arms. "Now…will you join me?"

_Yes! My God, yes! _some part of his brain screamed. But the rest of his mind was in turmoil; what exactly would "joining her" entail? Did she truly mean for them to… His mind refused to even utter the words, but that other, rebellious part of his brain gleefully chanted them out loud: _Consummate! Consummate!_ Oh, good God above, this must be a hallucination of some kind! To think that she had kissed him…and was proposing something so unthinkable that he could not even bring himself to imagine it…

Shaking, he dared to unfurl his hands a little, just enough to let her fingers slip in between his own. There was a request on the tip of his tongue, but he dared not utter it; the last time he had asked for such a thing, he had been screamed at and his mask had been flung at him. Yet, she had done it once, and proposed to go much further, so even though it was impertinent of him to ask for it, there was a chance that she might be willing to repeat her actions.

"C-can I have another kiss?" he blurted out before he could lose his courage. She seemed startled, but then her face relaxed into a smile. "Of course, but…what if I make you faint again?" she said, her concern earnest as it was clearly written across her features. How easily she had agreed to kissing him! Erik felt as if he would indeed faint again, but he replied, albeit with a wavering voice, "I…I shall gladly take that risk."

Her smile widened at that, and she slid her hands from his loose grasp to bring them to his face again. This time, she did not pull him towards her as before, but let him choose his own pace; and ever so slowly, he moved forwards until he could feel her warm breath upon his face.

While their first joining had hit him like a bolt of lightning, their second one slowly overtook him, warmth spreading from his core down to his very fingertips. His bones seemed to slowly melt away until there was nothing holding him upright except for her.

For that one moment, his face, their past, the possibility of rejection, it all did not matter; the only that did matter was the feeling of her lips on his, that gentle, yet insistent pressure, a feeling so divine that he thought he might cry – no, never mind that thought, he _was_ crying, his tears running down his cheeks and onto their joined lips. He briefly registered Christine's hands moving around his neck, felt his own hands going somewhere – he was not sure where, but it was wonderfully warm and soft there. They remained like that for a long time until finally, his lungs demanded oxygen and he hesitantly broke away from her.

By God, she had never looked more glorious.

Her breathing was as laboured as his, her cheeks and ears had coloured prettily and her eyes had taken on a hard, glassy look that sent currents tingling down his spine. He found that the warm place his hands had found was her waist, and blushed fiercely at this discovery. He quickly attempted to take away them from their inappropriate resting place. To his great shock, Christine would have none of it; she untangled one arm from around his neck and used it to keep his hands in place. When he looked at her, his heart almost burst from his chest cavity, for not only was there no sign of repulsion on her face, she even seemed pleased.

"Don't distance yourself from me now," she pleaded. "Please. You don't have to be afraid. Remember, Erik – we have to take the leap together. I'm nervous too…very nervous, in fact! But I do want this, Erik. I know you wish for it too – I can see it in your eyes, every day, how you long to be closer to me! You wanted me to be your wife, Erik, so make me your wife. I consent to it; you need not fear any accusations from me afterwards. I am giving myself to you – so won't you do the same for me?"

Through his tears, he looked at her. Give himself to her! He already was irrevocably hers, a burden that his poor darling had to endure thanks to his selfishness. "Christine deserves better than _this_" he motioned towards his face, "No, Erik cannot allow Christine to sacrifice herself to the beast…Erik will not! Christine will never have to endure the monster's touch…she is such a good girl, to have kissed Erik's hideous face, a gift far greater than he deserves…Christine is so noble, so brave, and Erik loves her so! But Erik cannot give what Christine asks…how could he…?" And with that, he began to cry in earnest, bending over until his head almost touched his knees. To have Christine! To make her his wife – in every sense of the word! What unimaginable bliss! He could not…could never…!

"Your face does not alter my decision, Erik. I have seen your face many times now, and it no longer frightens me. I will admit that it is not the face I had dreamed my husband would have; it is beyond words. But it does not matter to me; truly, it does not. It is your soul that matters to me, and I would like to see it mended. I want to help you, but you have to help me as well." Again, she gently stroked his head. "We only have each other. Don't hide from me anymore."

Her words left a wake of chaos inside his heart; he had longed to hear them for so long, yet now he could barely comprehend their meaning.

Gently, Christine coaxed him in an upright position again. Her eyes were so full of that wonderful warmth! She arose from the floor and smoothed out her night gown – that seemingly harmless piece of fabric that had begun all of this – and offered her hand to him. "I have made my choice. Now what of yours?"


	4. Chapter 4

Erik stared at Christine's offered hand for a long moment.

And then, he took it, and hoisted himself up from the floor. Now that he was at last towering over her again, he felt a little of his confidence return to him; however, that brief feeling of superiority made him panic even more as he realised that she most likely expected him to take the lead from now on.

He had just received the first two proper kisses of his life, one of which had literally robbed him of his senses; how on earth was he supposed to …_consummate _their relationship?

Clearly, Christine sensed the upcoming panic attack, for she took over and slowly led him to the grand bed that she had insisted he buy. Erik's mind was suddenly invaded by images of her lying in it and he let out a short gasp, which caused Christine to look up at him. His desire must have been written plainly across his features, for her eyes widened and her blush deepened. Some sense of modesty had seemingly returned to her; she suddenly seemed very interested in her own feet. Erik used this brief moment in which she was distracted to drink in the sight of her; he had not been able to pay much attention to her appearance up to this point, but now he could not help but devour her with his eyes.

The night gown she wore had been made for one purpose only, and that was seduction. And by God, did it succeed! That masterpiece of lace and silk was cut in a way that it covered most of her, and yet the thinness of the material ensured that he would catch a tantalizing glimpse of the figure hidden underneath. It opened in the front – it was meant for easy access, after all - and it was closed by a number of satin bows, one of which Christine was fiddling with nervously. "Sh-shall I…?" she gestured towards the bows. Erik swallowed thickly and nodded; he was incapable of uttering a sound, his magnificent voice for once muted. He could only watch as Christine's hands shakily loosened the first bow, the fabric falling apart and revealing a sliver of pale skin.

One bow. And another. And then another.

Christine looked up at him. Now, only her hands were keeping the night gown closed, and Erik's heart seemed to be going a hundred miles a minute. Slowly Christine pulled open the garment, revealing a larger expanse of skin than before, and Erik's mouth went dry at the realisation that she was not wearing anything underneath. The heat which her kiss had kindled within his body earlier rose up to his neck and ears and a thousand needles seemed to dig into his skin.

When at last the gown was fully parted and slipped off her body, Erik could not help but moan at the sight of her.

He'd seen women in various states of undress – he'd lived among gypsies and in Persia after all, and an opera house was also not exactly a place of modesty. But the sight of his Christine, standing before him without a stich of clothing covering her beauty, almost brought him to his knees in worship. No painter could have ever done her justice; it would have been impossible to find a colour that matched her lily-white skin and the delicate rosy flush that crept over it. He dared to let his eyes wander to her breasts. How beautiful they were, those pale mounds of flesh, capped by two perfect little buds of pink… Her chest rose and fell quickly, and Erik thought of the strong lungs inside of her, thought of the heavenly sounds that those lungs helped to create, and suddenly he was imagining what other sounds that lovely voice could produce, and the thought sent a wave of heat to his groin. At last, his eyes fell to the small patch of curls, slightly darker than the mass of gold on her head. This was her most secret place, and it was almost entirely bared for him to see…and she had allowed him to…_she wanted Erik to…oh, God!_

Christine had started shivering – either out of nervousness or because she was cold – and goose bumps covered her body. She crossed her arms and nodded towards the bed. "Do you mind if I…? It's a little cold in here," she stammered. "Y-yes…o-of course," he managed to rasp. Christine stepped out of the silk pooled around her feet, pulled back the covers and quickly slipped underneath them. She looked very small when nestled underneath the linen sheets, and amid his haze of desire Erik felt a familiar surge of protectiveness and adoration that somehow calmed him a little – but that relief only lasted for a moment before both his lust and his fear returned. Uncomfortably, he stood next to the bed, his posture stiff and his hands tightly clenched at his sides.

He dimly realised that he should undress and join her, but how could he possibly subject her to the sight of his corpselike body, yellow and bony and scarred as it was? It was bad enough that she had to endure his face; why scare her any further? Maybe he did not need to undress fully, or perhaps if he put out the lights – no, then he would not be able to see her either, and he needed to see her, needed to assure himself that she was real and not, as he was beginning to suspect, one of his hallucinations. Erik had never felt so torn before; one the one hand, he wanted to be with her – in fact, his entire being yearned for her on a level he could not even fully comprehend – but on the other hand, he wanted to flee out of her sight and hide himself. He was not prepared for this kind of situation; he had never dreamed that he would be this close to any woman, let alone Christine.

She made a small sound that startled him out of his panic for a moment and shifted his focus back towards her. Her smile was warm, if a little strained. "No more fear, Erik," she told him. "We can do this, together. And if we can get through this, we can conquer anything."

No more fear. Erik's eyes filled with tears again, but for once they were not tears of despair, but of gratitude. His sweet angel…how she tried to be strong for him, when she clearly trembled as badly as he did! If she could show so much courage, then she deserved no less from him. Hesitantly, he slid out of his tail coat – to his shame, he noticed that he suddenly lacked his usual grace – and let it join Christine's gown on the floor. His waistcoat quickly followed. Now Erik stood before Christine in his shirtsleeves – still fully clothed, but still more exposed than he had ever been in her presence. He looked at her, seeking conformation that he should continue. She gave him a reassuring nod. And so his shoes and socks were disposed of. But every further garment that he took off would leave him completely bared to her gaze.

He knew it was very unfair thing of him to ask; she had let him see her body, after all. But he feared that if he let her see how hideous he truly was, she would change her mind after all – and he would let her, of course, even if it killed him.

"Christine…could you close your eyes, please?" he begged. "I know it is not fair of me to ask, but please…I cannot…I cannot…."

And, dear, sweet creature that she was, she understood and closed her eyes. Erik made quick work of his shirt. When he slipped out of his trousers, he could not help but notice that his excitement was now painfully obvious; ashamed, he quickly finished undressing, then hurried to lie down on the other side of the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.

Christine had opened her eyes when she felt Erik's weight settle down on the mattress. Now she had rolled over and was staring at him from the opposite side of the bed. Erik could feel the warmth from her side slowly seep over and gradually heat up the cold linen he was lying on. What now? He had a theoretical understanding of what happened between a man and a woman on their wedding night, but he had never thought that he would ever marry, let alone bed a woman. Where to begin? And how could he dare to sully her with his touch? To kiss her had been more than he had ever dreamed of. But to be allowed to join with her in the most intimate manner…oh, it was unthinkable!

Christine looked at him with nervous anticipation; she was clearly waiting for him to make the next move, but he did not dare to stir, never mind touching her.

And so it was again Christine who was the first to initiate contact. She touched his face, gently running her thumb along his jaw. That simple caress sent Erik into a world of bliss; his whole body was tingling, and he longed to reach out for her. With a moan, he closed his eyes. "Christine….Oh, your Erik cannot imagine how his angel can bear to touch his hideous face! It is not too late…Erik will leave his eyes closed so Christine can leave his bed with dignity…We will never speak of this again and go on as before…please, Christine, you cannot truly want this!"

The thumb on his jaw stilled. "Erik, look at me," came Christine's surprisingly stern order.

He obeyed against his better judgement. Christine's eyes had taken on a hard, burning look that frightened and aroused him in equal measure. The hand on his cheek moved down to rest on his chest, sending more delicious shivers to dangerous places.

"Erik, I will not leave now, and I will not let you leave either. I have told you that I consent to this; my God, I was the one who started this! But if you truly do not want me, then say so!"

Not want her…! _He, not want her_! By God, he _burned_ for her, _and her alone!_

"Christine…I am yours! Do you not know that my heart, my soul, my entire being belong only to you? Erik would give you anything – anything you asked! He – I…I love you, Christine! I love you…I love you…." Erik's voice trembled, and once more, tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

Christine extended both of her arms and gently drew his shaking form closer. His breath hitched at her sudden proximity; though their bodies did not touch, he was close enough to feel the heat radiating from her. She cradled his ugly head in her hands and pulled him close until their foreheads touched. Her smile was watery as well as she whispered to him. "Erik, I am honoured to receive your love. For a long time, I feared your affections and thought them a burden. But now I think I am at last ready to accept your love as a gift. I care for you, Erik, in my own way…and maybe, someday, I shall be able to love you as you should be loved."

Erik had never wanted to kiss her as much as in this moment. Gathering all his courage, he boldly covered her lips with his own.

Christine made a small sound of surprise, but did not protest or push him away. Her lips felt wonderfully soft and pliable underneath his thin, rough ones. Erik moaned against her and let his hands emerge from underneath the sheet to tangle in her golden hair as he had often dreamed of doing. Christine seemed to like this, for she responded by letting her own hands trail down his back, causing delicious shivers to run down his spine; but then, her fingers brushed against one of the many scars that marred his skin, and Erik broke the kiss and scrambled from her hold. Christine looked hurt and surprised at this, and he immediately felt ashamed; still, he did not want her to feel the evidence of his cruel past.

"A-apologies," he muttered, "It is just...Erik's past has left many marks on him that he does not wish to horrify his Christine with."

Christine sighed and took his hands in her own. "Oh Erik, the only horror your scars inspire comes from the fact that you were forced to carry them. Your scars make me sad, and they make me angry, but they do not repulse me." He stared in amazement as she brought his skeletal hands to her mouth – the hands that had once so disgusted her – and pressed a chaste kiss to his claw-like digits. "And now, husband," she added, "no more talk."

And with that, she pulled him back into her embrace before he had time to retort.

Her mouth found his again and this time, her kiss was a lot less chaste. Erik was taken aback by the force Christine put into this kiss, but found that he was powerless to resist her; with a groan, his hands found their way back into her curls.

When Christine's hands slid across his back this time, he did not flinch. He tried to expel all fear from his mind as she had asked him to; and the exhilarating sensations she was causing within him certainly made that task easier. Something soft and warm pressed itself against his chest; with a start, he realised that her breasts were pushed up against him. He could feel one of those tiny buds he'd so admired rubbing against his skin. His body responded immediately to the sensation, his arousal now heavy between his thighs. He longed to touch her; but she had forbidden him to speak, so how ask for permission? When her lips left his, he searched in her eyes for a signal that he was allowed to feel her; and to his relief and wonder, he found her to be willing.

Slowly, gently, he let his hands trace her jawline before they wandered down to her neck. She shivered, and he stopped to reconfirm himself of her consent. When it was given, his fingers ghosted over her collarbone before halting at the swell of her breast. Again, he looked at her for permission, and it was granted. Erik held his breath. With as much caution as would he would apply when handling a precious instrument, he stroked the sides of her breasts and immediately marvelled at silky texture his fingertips were met with. Moving upwards, he discovered that her peaks were rougher, but no less pleasant to touch; when he grazed his fingers against them, Christine gasped, and he immediately stopped and shot her a worried look.

"Did Erik hurt you?" he asked, his voice thick with fear. Christine let out a shaky breath and shook her head. "No, not at all. Please continue."

Still scared that he might have hurt her, Erik moved away from the dangerous terrain of her bosom and slid his hands down the curve of her waist and onto her hips; this was a s place he had touched before, and felt less nervous about. A tremor ran through Christine's body, and again Erik stopped what he was doing – but Christine opened her eyes, which she had closed at some point during his ministrations, and hissed at him. "Don't stop now!"

Erik's eyes widened and he hurried to obey her. His hands continued their exploration of her hips. Slowly, they slid lower and down onto her thighs; he was now dangerously close to that one part of her that he had not even dared to think of in his most heated of fantasies. He hesitated again.

_Be brave, Erik. Be brave for your Christine_.

Erik's hand at last found that patch of dark blonde curls, and at that one, timid touch, Christine gasped. He was ready to withdraw from her, but she grasped his wrist with surprising strength and held him in place. It slowly dawned on him that her exclamations were not ones of pain, but of pleasure. Emboldened by this realisation, he cautiously moved his trembling fingers against her core; it was warm there, and slightly moist. Erik experimentally rubbed the uneven folds of flesh he found, and was rewarded by another gasp from Christine.

Erik had always been a quick learner; it did not take him long to find out that the fleshy nub at her centre required the most stimulation, and that the growing slickness was a good sign. He dared to let his other hand return to her breasts and lightly stroked them, again enjoying the feel of her soft skin against his rough palms.

Christine gasped every now and then and writhed slightly; after a while, she rolled onto her back and spread her legs a little to grant him easier access. Erik continued with is explorations of her, marvelling at each new discovery he made.

Learning the intricacies of Christine's body was not unlike learning an instrument, Erik thought; he delighted in studying her reactions to his touches and tried to repeat the movements that elicited the loudest response from her. What bliss, to be able to touch Christine so freely, to know she seemed to get pleasure from his touch!

Christine's little cries threatened to push Erik across the brink before they had even joined, and he withdrew his hand from her core, his fingers slick with the evidence of her arousal. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling its sweet scent, and pressed a timid kiss to her neck that sent a tremor through both of them. He was desperate for her.

"Christine", he rasped, "Christine…please…"

His gaze met hers and he continued his pleas wordlessly, and she seemed to understand, for she pulled him closer. Erik's heartbeat somehow managed to increase even further, and he briefly wondered whether he would survive the night. Not that it mattered – after what had occurred between them so far, he would die in bliss.

Hesitantly, Christine began to stroke his arm. Erik held absolutely still as her hand continued to trail down his ribs, his abdomen and the hollow of his stomach area. As he had done before with her, Christine looked at him for approval, which he hastily granted.

Christine hesitated before pulling the covers aside to reveal him completely. He resisted the urge to jump from the bed and allowed her to look at him. Her eyes quickly dropped to his middle, and he could feel heat creep up his neck in embarrassment. Their previous actions had left him aching with need; he was more than ready for her. A jolt of pleasure and shock ran through him when he suddenly felt her small hand timidly touch him at his most sensitive place. Erik bit back a sob; he sensed that if he let her continue, he would soon embarrass the both of them.

"C-christine," he choked out. "Please…_ahh!_" He nearly shouted out loud when her thumb came into contact with the tip of his length. Her touch left him burning, and he briefly wondered if this was just an elaborate and highly pleasant way of killing him.

Her hand moved away and Erik almost regretted saying anything. But Christine seemed to understand, for she laid back and motioned for him to come closer. Erik followed, his bony figure moving on top of her. She brought her hands up to his shoulders and met his gaze, and they stayed like this for a moment.

Erik felt light-headed, as if part of him had already left his body and moved on. He shook terribly as he searched her eyes for permission; he knew that their joining would be painful for her, and he wanted to offer her another chance to stop, but just like his previous offers, this one was wordlessly dismissed by her as well.

Christine smiled a little and gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze, before opening her legs further to allow him to settle in between. Gradually, Erik lowered himself until he felt his length brush against her slick entrance, and that sensation alone was almost enough to undo him. Christine's eyes held fear, but she bravely continued to encourage him.

He entered her slowly, pausing each time she winced to ask her if she wished him to stop. It wasn't long before he was met with a barrier within her, and one last time, his eyes sought out hers for permission. She gave a tiny nod, and with one final push, Erik was at last fully sheathed within her.

She was heavenly. The feeling of her heat, her constricting hold around him…! Erik willed himself to last, but he was uncertain how long his willpower would serve him, for already he could feel a tremendous pressure build within him. And so he held still, very still, both for her sake as well as his own. The silence was only broken by Christine's quiet gasps and stifled sobs. For what seemed like eternity, they remained so, until Christine gave Erik a gentle nudge, and shifted a little beneath him.

That tiny movement again almost drove him over the edge, and he began to move within her, as gently as could be managed. Each small thrust drove a gasp from her and a whimper from him, which turned into sobs as he carried on.

Erik felt as if he was about to disintegrate and float way, and he instinctively clung to Christine, his hands finding her hips as an anchor. The pleasure was so intense that it was nearly painful to bear; Erik had not imagined that he was capable of feeling something so raw. His notions of passion and lust had been sorely lacking, and somewhere, in what little part of his mind that was not completely consumed by pleasure, he idly thought that he would have to re-write _Don Juan Triumphant_. The pressure kept on building to a point where it nearly drove Erik out of his mind; after a few final rocking motions, the pressure exploded, turning his mind blank; a sense of release overcame him. He let out a long groan and then stilled above her. Exhausted, he closed his eyes, and let the aftermath of his pleasure wash over him. When he opened them again, Christine gave him a tired smile while her hand – he dimly noticed that it was the one that held her wedding ring – sought out his.

"My husband", she whispered.

"My wife", he answered adoringly.

A sort of sleepy satisfaction followed his release, silencing the myriad of thoughts in his mind and leaving only the overwhelming desire to gather her into his arms and sleep. He removed himself from her, showering her forehead in apologetic kisses when she winced in pain. Drowsily, he pulled her close and let out a little sigh of delight when she wrapped her arms around him.

The last thing Erik was aware of before he drifted off was her sweet voice sighing his name.


End file.
